Smoke and Mirrors
by Doubleplusgoodduckspeaker
Summary: Everything is an illusion, and Pandora knows this best of all. If only his life would be the dream that it once was—but that's magic, real magic, like holding the moon in your hands when it belongs in the sky. Delusionshipping: Pandora x Catherine.


**Pairings**: Delusionshipping: PandoraxCatherine, takes place pre-canon (the 1980's).  
**Summary**: Everything is an illusion, and Pandora knows this best of all. If only his life would be the dream that it once was—but that's magic, real magic, like holding the moon in your hands when it belongs in the sky.

**.  
Smoke and Mirrors  
.**  
"Each man kills the thing he loves"  
-Oscar Wilde  
**.**  
**. . .**

**Tonight **at the** MGM Grand**

presenting

**Pandora the Conjurer**

**8:00** at the **Celebrity Room**

This world-famous magician will astound and amaze you!

**. . .**

Pandora smoothed out the crumpled playbill in his hands, adding it to the top of the stack and hunting for the next stray paper hidden underneath the rows of seats. The next time the hotel printed more fliers, he'd have to request a brighter color paper, or maybe something with a glossy finish. God knows the show next door had plenty of rhinestones to spare.

It was just getting out—he could hear the men laughing and applauding, then the sound of the large doors opening to the lobby beyond. He stood up, grimacing at the dirt on the knees of his white-colored suit. At least the Grand took care of the heavy lifting; already the larger pieces of the set had been moved off of the stage and into storage. They looked after the props more than the person.

"Are you done? Come have a drink with us." Several of the dancers hovered at the back of his theater, still in costume.

Pandora walked towards them, all traces of weariness gone from his expression. The casino floor would be crowded this late in the evening; there would be plenty to see and plenty to see him—Pandora the Conjurer, world-famous magician. Fresh from his European tour, he worked hard to cultivate just the right impression: Pandora, the in-demand, the desired, the well-paid. It was a proper magic trick in its own right, and tricky to pull off. It would be good to be seen with such beautiful women.

The programs went into a box by the door, to be recycled for the next show. He would ask the hotel to print bigger fliers, with pictures. It wasn't such a grand request. This was Las Vegas, after all. The group left the theatre and disappeared into the noisy, lively floor beyond.

**.**

He had added a new trick in the weeks that followed, a disappearing act involving several large overturned top-hats. Pandora spoke with reporters and posed for photographs, greedily taking in the praise and acclaim, and with magazine clippings in his pocket he met to renew his contract for Saturday nights at the Celebrity Room. Mark Markorian, the man in charge of the MGM Grand's affairs, sat behind a modern-looking glass desk, the windows behind him peeking over the Las Vegas Strip.

"Good of you to make it!" he said loudly, reaching out his hand towards Pandora, who crisply shook it. "Please, have a seat!" Pandora did his best not to grimace—in it there was this feeling of being summoned, of a particular distinction between them based solely on which man sat on which side of the desk. He adjusted his tie and tried not to feel so small.

"The numbers are quite good, and we want to keep you on here, but I'm afraid we can't give you the entire weekend," Markorian said. "It's more than a matter of tickets—it's who buys the tickets. And the people who come to see magic don't gamble."

"…What kind of person do you want at my show?"

"Think of the _Jubilee!_ show we have in the Zeigfield stage. It brings in a certain type of crowd, right? The men there stick around in the casino. They feel lucky, they want to test that luck and play against the house." He paused and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, checking his watch. "Not that your show isn't good. I mean, I was there the other night! The whole 'illusions and childlike wonder' thing? They'd love it at the Stardust. But here, at the Grand? When we opened, we were the largest hotel in the entire world. We want larger-than-life spectacle. We want people to be entertained at your show, sure—so they feel like winners, or forget how much they lost at the poker tables."

"You need more danger, Pandora," he continued, smiling as if the idea appealed to him. "Show them something thrilling, that's my advice. Can you do that?"

He nodded slowly. "Yes, sir."

**.**

"I'll show them something," Pandora said, swirling the last of his drink before tipping it down. He looked down, sniggering at the empty glass. "It's gone… like magic." He could make plenty of that stuff disappear.

"Buy me one?" A woman slipped into the seat next to his, folding her jacket over the back of the seat.

"…It's Cathy? Catherine! I almost didn't recognize you without the sequins and feathers." He smiled and raised his replenished drink to her, looking at her through the glass. He remembered her costume was the most alluring shade of pink. She gave him a look, as if to say that remembering a name was not the triumph he thought it was.

"I need something after that rehearsal," she said, resting her arms on the countertop. "One of the principals is leaving next month to get married, and I was next in line to get it. I'd been with the _Jubilee!_ for two years, but they passed right over me, and didn't even make it sound like a tough decision."

"What did you do?"

"…Nothing," Catherine admitted. "What was I supposed to do? Demand the role or quit? I like it here…it's just so frustrating." The group of tourists at the other end of the bar had gone, leaving them the only patrons at the counter. It felt like being at the center of a storm, a few moments of stillness when outside was the noise and heat, swirling around his ankles and pressing in against him. He could move out into the fray, or try to bend its movements to his control.

He had hardly even considered the idea before blurting it out. "Would you like another job? I need an assistant, someone to be on stage with me—that way I can do some bigger illusions, draw in a larger crowd. I'll make sure you look good, Catherine—it's not the principal dancer at _Jubilee!_, but you'll get a lot more stage time, I promise."

"You'll let me dance in your show?" Pandora nodded. It would be the perfect distraction—when everyone in the audience would be looking at her, he would be free to work whatever sleights of hand he wished. His show was earlier in the evening, and only a single night a week—a small commitment of time, but it was just the thing she needed. "Alright, I'll do it. I'll be your assistant."

What the manager had told him earlier that day continued to stick in his mind. He wanted danger, wanted to see something thrilling. There were plenty of tricks still up his sleeves.

**.**

"It is time for my final trick! You may be familiar with Russian nesting dolls, but today we have three boxes, each one larger than the next—and each one capable of being locked from the outside."

They had been rehearsing the new show—really, there was really hardly anything left of the old one, so many changes had been made. Onstage, Catherine motioned to the three colorful boxes, drawing special attention to the locks. This one was her idea.

She was dressed normally, but on the night of the live show there would be several different costumes and a custom light show designed for each specific illusion. Catherine helped him into the smallest box, itself barely large enough to fit him inside, before securely closing the lid of the box and twisting the lock tightly closed.

The side of the box felt cool against his cheek, and he fought down the feeling in his mind that the container was moving, sinking, down to a place where the surface was out of reach. Above him, music began to play.

"_Are you mad? You could have drowned!" He was yanked harshly out of the water and into the boat. Pandora wiped the wet hair away from his eyes so he could see the man who saved him. Pandora tried to frown at him, but already his teeth were starting to chatter. _

_The man, dressed in a dark sweater and beret, squinted up at the bridge above them, but nobody else was around. In moments the current had begun to carry them further down the river. "You're just a kid—what were you thinking? Can you even swim?" He sighed; lifting up the bench he was sitting on and pulled out a blanket which he tossed to Pandora. "Tell me where you live and I'll take you home."_

_Pandora said nothing, silently shivering underneath his blanket. It was still early in the morning; soon the river would be full of tourist barges and dinner cruises. He could barely make out the arched silhouette of the Tower in-between the buildings. _

"_Looks like I'm not getting any work done today."_

"_What do you do?" Pandora asked, curiosity getting the better of him. It looked like the man lived on the boat; he could see the covered area and stairs leading down into the ship's hold. _

"_Why, I'm Jean, the greatest pickpocket in France." The man held up a faded brown wallet in his hands, Pandora's wallet, giving a small waggle of his fingers as he peered inside. "Sorry, force of habit. My fingers and quicker than my brain sometimes." Young Pandora started to protest when he tossed the wallet back to him. It landed in his lap. _

"_So, you're Pandora… honestly, kid, what kind of name is that?"_

"_My mother gave it to me," he said sharply, looking down at the leather in his hands._

The box, unlocked, fell open, revealing the smooth, cool interior—empty. Catherine looked out and found him in the theater, walking slowly towards her from the back of the room. Their first live show was finished, and it went perfectly.

The applause from the crowd spread out from him to the corners of the room as the patrons discovered the illusion's resolution, the loud clapping continued as he joined Catherine on stage for the final bow.

"You were a little slow getting back there," she whispered to him, grinning. "What are you going to do when we perform in larger theatres?"

"I was going to ask you the same question," he answered, "There will be quite a lot of stage to cover. I could saw you in half during the second act of the show—if you feel like you need some time to lie down, of course."

The velvet curtains swished closed before them, and underneath the fabric he could see the house lights beginning to come back on. He looked over to Catherine to find her still smiling.

"That show was amazing," she said happily. "Seeing everything come together is a hundred times more magical than seeing it from the theater. I thought it would take all of the allure out of things, but I was wrong. That was incredible."

He wouldn't tell her then, but it was the highest compliment anyone had ever paid to his work.

**.**

**Weekends **at the** MGM Grand**

presenting

**Pandora the Conjurer **

and his assistant** Catherine**

**8:00** at the **Celebrity Room**

Their magic show will thrill and amaze you!

**. . .**

"Can you come over here? I want to test something," Pandora said, studying the tall rectangular structure in the center of the stage. The swords-piercing box had been the finale of his original show, and it would be a waste not to use the prop they already had.

Catherine was sitting on the stage floor, stretching; after a moment she finished and got up, following Pandora into the box. The fourth side, which comprised the door, remained slightly open behind her.

"No, I don't think it would really work with two people, it was tight enough with one, and that's not even including all of the swords."

"It's…cozy. Not too bad." Their foreheads were nearly touching. "But if we're both in here, what's happening on stage?"

His brow furrowed as he thought. "Hmmm… maybe we could work in something different with the lights, or light the outside of the box on fire. Markorian did say something about pushing the envelope just a little bit further…what about you? What do you want?"

Catherine could look out of the holes in the box; there was nobody else in the theater. "Well, there was something I wanted to try, but I'm not sure if it would work out…" She closed the distance between them.

It took Pandora a few seconds to realize what was happening—it was him, Catherine was kissing him—but by that time his hands were already wrapped around her, his fingers moving from her hair to trace down the sides of her cheekbones. Before he forgot everything else, Pandora could smile at that. Sometimes they really were faster than his brain.

**.**

"Teach me a magic trick," she begged.

"You know a magician never reveals his secrets." Four weeks later, and their act was billed as the hottest on the Las Vegas Strip—only the best for the MGM Grand, the headlines read. But Pandora couldn't help but see the other stories being printed, couldn't help but listen to the words Markorian whispered into his ear. _Jubilee!_ had hired an aerial specialty act to replace Catherine—they had someone who could fly over the stage, supported by mere hoops and lengths of fabric. What did Pandora have?

It wasn't a cycle, so much as a vortex, pulling him in as he went further around. Any new technique or triumph was met with _what's next?_ He could always do more, do better. It wasn't a lie.

Whenever their theater was booked with other performers, they rehearsed in a different room, one of many branching off of the performance space. Pandora handed a piece of weighty metal chain to Catherine, bound into a loop with a large lock at its center. "Let's see what you make of this. You can open the lock without this key, if you know the trick."

She studied it with fascination for a minute, peering through the keyhole and pulling at the chain. She struggled with it for a few moments before giving up. "There's something off about it, but I can't figure out what." She'd seen enough of his magic up-close to get the feeling of how these things often went.

He turned over the lock and deftly lifted up the back plate; instantly the chains fell away from the lock, piling onto the floor with a crashing sound. "It's not really a lock at all," he said, putting it back together and wrapping the chain around his wrists. "It just has to look like one to the audience."

In one motion his arms were free again. "Brilliant!" Catherine clapped, eager to try it on herself. "A daring escape!"

She looked at him again, more seriously. "You're going to use this on the exploding box, aren't you? I overheard you talking with the director. It's not enough to have a box raised up and blown up; he wants you locked in as well? It's too much, Pandora."

She reached out her hand and he took it. "There are very few things you can count on, and very fewer people," he said, "and I can count on both of us to put on an amazing show. There is nothing to fear—a master magician can handle much more than this, I assure you."

"Then you can count on me." She had been around him long enough now to understand that magic was his world; he talked about nothing else. When he went out with the other dancers after their shows, she'd thought it was annoying—so what, he could make their straws levitate—but now, it felt different. And as many times as she saw the tricks being performed on stage, as many times as she took part in them—they never lost their magic.

**.**

He helped Catherine into the device before sliding the panel closed behind her. Loud music began to play as he pushed the sides of the box inward until it was now half of its former size. They had a great audience that night; the theater was packed with people.

Catherine stuck a hand out of an opening in the box and waved at the audience, assuring them that she was still there despite its unreasonably slim profile. A moment later, he pulled the sides back out to their original shape, and with a puff of smoke, she emerged—her clothes completely changed, into a pink-and-white colored dress.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the beautiful Catherine!" Pandora clapped along with the audience as the music changed to the start of her solo routine. He stood back and watched. Later, he'd pull poker chips out of thin air and escape from handcuffs and a locked box, but this was his favorite part of the show. No matter what parts changed, he insisted on an act dedicated solely to her. It was what he promised, after all.

After the show had ended, Catherine left to collect the last of her things from her old dressing room at the Ziegfield stage—things were just too busy, she had forgotten to get them before—and Pandora waited patiently in their own room backstage before deciding to set out and find her. She probably had too much to carry by herself, or wanted to visit with some of the other dancers.

He tested a few of the doors until he found the right one. It was like a honeycomb or an anthill, the way this side of the building was laid out. Many of the hallways and offshoots led to offices and storage, but just as many led to strange places, or connected back to the public areas in interesting ways. He utilized several of them with the trapdoors on the stage during his show.

He knew he was almost there when he could hear people talking. With such a large cast, _Jubilee!_ required more space for everyone, and there always seemed to be someone around. He stopped when he heard Catherine's voice with several others he vaguely recognized, just around the next corner.

She sounded angry. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"You've always thought so. We've always thought so—come on, he is just a little bit pathetic. I know you'd invite him out with us to be nice, but it was always so embarrassing, the way he'd grovel for attention. Isn't there more for you here? You were always so talented…"

"What, and I stop becoming talented now that I'm performing on a different stage? Pandora is a remarkable magician—he's worked harder than any of us here, developing new tricks so the show's always changing. Markorian keeps egging him on do more dangerous things and he's too proud not to accept, but he always manages to pull it off. _Jubilee!_ has been running continuously for years—I don't want to do the same show every night for the rest of my career. Please don't say those kinds of things about him anymore, they're not true and he doesn't deserve it after everything he's done."

Pandora had returned by the time Catherine came back to their dressing room.

"You're still in your stage clothes," she teased, brushing an invisible speck from his white suit-jacket. "You must like wearing them. I'll bet anything they're more comfortable than my dresses." Catherine paused, pushing the box she had been carrying to the corner of her table. "Is everything alright? Are you ready to go?"

He nodded, following her outside. A strange sort of fire had been burning inside of him that evening. It made him nervous just as it made everything else so bright. He could whisper it to himself if he dared. _I want to marry that woman. _

**.**

The MGM Grand always went overboard at Christmas-time. Despite their surroundings of sand rather than snow, the hotel was decked out with garlands and twinkling lights. Glamorous ornaments hung from every branch of the tree in the hotel's lobby. With the hotel bringing in celebrity entertainers from around the country, their magic show was on a month-long hiatus.

Pandora had gotten himself two tickets to their New Year's Eve Party—there was a stack of them just sitting out when he had gone to the office to sign their contract for the next six months—and it had given him the most wonderful, terrifying idea. He had been planning it with just the care and attention he had given to any magic trick. Most tricks rely on manipulating the audience in some way—forcing them to see a certain card, telling them to look closely instead of at the larger picture—but the audience he had in mind for this one he knew very well, and was beyond any sort of trick. He hoped he knew what Catherine would say to this.

He pulled Catherine to the center of the dance floor. Above them was a net holding hundreds of balloons in black and gold, ready to drop at midnight. "Are you having fun?" He asked, spinning her around.

"Yes! This is incredible. Thank you." She kissed him on the cheek, smiling. For once his white suit jackets blended in with the crowd.

When the song ended he checked his wristwatch—counting down the minutes to midnight, and turned back to Catherine with an excited, boyish grin. "Come with me. I want to show you something."

He led her away from the party and into the labyrinth of back hallways, up a flight of stairs and down a carpeted corridor. "I had no idea things went back this far," Catherine said as they went along. "Just where are you taking me?"

"It's a surprise," he answered. "I found it by accident once after a show; I went looking for a different way out from backstage and ended up at the hotel's kitchens. It's all interconnected—but for a hotel this large it has to be."

Two more staircases took them to a nondescript door, a faded plate near the door reading 'roof access' and the hotel's logo the only sign. He twisted the handle—unlocked, he'd made sure of that—and motioned for Catherine to follow him outside.

From here they had a perfect view of the hotels and casinos around them, the colored lights and neon signs dazzling at night. There was plenty of noise from the street—even this late, cars were still going up and down the strip—and every now and then, a cheer would rise up from the street, but from where they were, everything was muted. They were close enough to see but far enough to be separated from it all.

"Pandora, this is beautiful!" Catherine exclaimed. "We can watch the fireworks from here!"

They stood near the railing, watching the lights. It wasn't that cold but she leaned in close, resting her head against his shoulder. "I love you so much," Pandora whispered.

"I love you too," she answered. The first firework screamed into the sky, bursting red and gold. In moments the sky was filled with them, each hotel's display visible to them from the rooftop of the theatre.

The sky was brighter than the neon-clad buildings; the thunderclap sound of each sparkler drowned out the noise from the street. "How magical, isn't it?" Catherine sighed as one trailed glittering white tendrils, down like the branches of a willow tree. "It's like the stars came down from the sky."

"I can do one better than that."

She arched one eyebrow, looking up at him. "Can you?" It was just like him, to challenge the stars.

"I can take the moon down from the sky and bring it into your hands."

He felt for the box in his pocket, pulled it out. "Is that something you'd like to see?" He knelt, even though the rooftop was dirty and he'd surely get stains and smudges of dirt on his suit. That sort of thing just didn't seem to matter as much anymore.

"I'd like that very much." On her hand, the opal setting of the ring shimmered.

**.**

"Introducing the stars of our show—Pandora and Catherine!" They took the stage, Pandora bowing smartly and Catherine curtseying as the crowd applauded them. Their fingers linked, he could see the ring sparkling under the stage lights. It filled him with a wild sort of happiness that made it hard to think about anything else.

They took their places on the stage. "Now, for our first trick, I need a member of the audience to sign one of these cards," he said, shuffling the deck vertically so the cards fell like water from one hand to the next. "You, sir—sign your name, then slide the card back into the deck, wherever you like. I took these cards straight from the casino, so it is a regulation deck, nothing has been tampered with—you can ask any floor manager—all of the good cards in the casino are right here with me!"

The crowd laughed as he shuffled the deck again, Catherine helping the man back to his seat. "Now, watch me place this deck right here, on stage. I don't know where the signed card is, but that doesn't matter. You've brought life into that card! It will move by the end of this show, without any of us having to touch it."

And just before the intermission, when Pandora escaped from three locked boxes, he left something behind. The middle case snapped open, revealing the signed copy of the ace of hearts stuck to the lid. The inner box, where Pandora had been locked away was, of course, empty. He walked calmly down the center aisle as the audience was brought to their feet.

**.**

He looked at the crowd with a wicked grin as the lights began to brighten. "Always save the best trick for last." The curtains behind him parted to reveal the mechanism of the last act, a miniature crane connected by chains to a rectangular box, not much taller or wider than Pandora himself.

"I will have fifteen seconds to escape from this box! You can see the charges placed on the outside of each panel, ready to detonate! And they will—after fifteen seconds. I'll need you, my audience, to be the timer—count down the seconds loudly enough so I can hear."

Catherine came up to him, holding a long metal chain, which she fastened around his body, locking the two ends together just below his outstretched wrists. She helped him up into the open box and gently closed the lid, securing it with Pandora inside. Catherine began counting in her mind as she moved away from the crane. Pandora would have escaped from the chains by now. The music track changed to a hushed, dramatic score, barely overshadowed by the chanting of the audience. The numbers were projected onto the back wall of the theatre, counting down the seconds.

"Fifteen, Fourteen, Thirteen…"

The crane's mechanical arm moved upwards, raising the box slowly into the air.

"Ten! Nine!"

The explosion rocked the theater; the chain holding the box snapped in two and it fell, trailing smoke, to the bottom of the theater. The rectangular crate collapsed in a pile of smoke and red sparks, the free end of the chain still connected to the crane swung about wildly; it swept against one of the curtains and the force pulled it down, blanketing the stage in red velvet.

Catherine screamed.

In an instant people were on their feet, moving quickly for the exits. The fire had spread to the wallpaper running up both sides of the theatre, racing up to the roof and leaving the remnants behind black and scarred.

There was too much smoke. She had no way of telling where Pandora was, if he needed her help; the smoke made her eyes water and seeped into her lungs and the stage was impossible to make out. She couldn't hear his voice over the crowd.

She allowed herself to be carried away in the crowd of people swarming towards the lobby. From far-off she heard another loud burst, and hundreds of people were coming in from the opposite direction, from the casino. The smoke was everywhere.

They spread out as soon as they reached the outside; crowds of people from children in pajamas to men in tuxedos and her _Jubilee!_ co-stars, feather skirts and headdresses mussed and crooked. From several open windows she could see the smoke billowing out.

They heard the loud whines of the fire truck before they saw it, racing down the strip towards their building. "Clark County Fire Department! Make way!"

Catherine fought through the crowd, her fingers grabbing the coat of one of the officers. "My fiancé was in the theater," she cried, "on the stage when it happened. I don't know where he is."

She let him go, sinking to her knees as people continued to spill out from the hotel lobby, crowding into the street, only dispersing to let a second fire truck and ambulance through. Catherine wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. "I don't know where he is."

**.**

The first thing Pandora noticed when he opened his eyes was the light, hazy and strange. The fuzziness sharpened into the form of a hanging pendant light, illuminating a sterile green background.

The second thing he noticed was the pain. It lanced through his body when he tried to sit up; thinking better of it he leaned back against the pillow, tears pricking at the corner of his eyes, wetting the ends of the bandages there. It hurt just to breathe.

The machine to his left continuously let out a low, beeping sound. He let it fill his ears, pushing out the sounds he didn't want to keep hearing, the blasts his mind continually gave back to him. He let each mechanical bleat lull him back to the blissful escape of sleep.

_Paris at nighttime was heartbreakingly beautiful. From their boat on the river, the pair could see every side of the city—it was wonderful just to sit on the deck in the evenings and watch it all go by. Pandora, now a hair over twenty, made himself comfortable there. Jean came up from the hold; he had put on a thick white scarf that wrapped twice around his neck. _

"_We've had many adventures over the years since I pulled you out of the water, no?" He said, settling in across from Pandora. "And a great adventure was had yesterday." Their latest con involved posing as delivery-men of a local chain of convenience stores. _

"_My friends say that you were recognized. They all say it was the same handsome young man that escaped with the Vuitton bags." He'd known this conversation was coming._

_It was different when he was a child; he needed less, always agreed with Jean's plans, and was useful to their schemes in a way that had been lost as he grew older. A child could blend in to a crowd or escape into small places, he could distract a kindly shopkeeper or occasionally assist in an honest way. Pandora the man was noticed by women, given special attention in shops and, more frequently, sparred with the mentor who had taught him all he knew. "It would be best if I left Paris," Pandora said._

_Their boat listed along. "There's plenty more of the world waiting for you, and plenty more fools ready to believe what they see and pay you for it. You could pass yourself off as a healer, magician, or mystic. It would be easy for a master like yourself."_

_He thought about it. There was nothing that tied him to this place; he could go anywhere he wished. He didn't so much mind the solitude—he felt alone even with Jean, who never truly understood him—but the anonymity was what grated with him the most. What he desired more than treasure was fame. _

"_I wish you success, wherever you go," They shook hands and watched the lights in the windows along the river flicker off, one by one._

**.**

"Has he been asking to see me?"

"Miss, you can go in now. He's awake." Without waiting for an answer, Catherine raced to the door. Pandora sat up in bed, propped up by pillows. Despite the warnings by the doctors, she couldn't help but gasp when she saw him. Bandages covered every inch of exposed skin save for the areas around his eyes and mouth.

"Oh, Pandora…" She knelt by the side of his bed, gingerly reaching for his hand. The opal ring on her finger shimmered; it reminded him of the spotlight always focused on him in their theater. Something so innocuous, but it filled him with revulsion.

"I'm so glad they were able to save you," she said. "I was so worried…"

When he spoke, his voice was rough. "They said there would be scarring…a-along my chest and shoulders…and across my face…" They didn't save him. They damned him.

"Sir, one patient at a time—"

Markorian swept into the room despite the protests of the nurse; he was holding a briefcase and looked like he hadn't slept. "Good! You're awake." He pulled a newspaper from the briefcase and flung it onto the nightstand. Out of the corner of his eye Pandora could see the headline, and a black-and-white photo of the hotel, belching smoke. "I've been dealing with the press for the last two days, non-stop. Dozens, hospitalized! Millions of dollars of damages, and that's not even including loss of casino revenue…all because of some silly magic trick. Reporters have been trying to get in here; too, they all want to talk to the man to blame—"

"You're wrong!"

Catherine stood up, facing him down. "It's not his fault the explosion went off before it was supposed to! Besides, the trick was your idea—you've been pushing us to do dangerous stunts for the past year, which puts any blame just as much on you. And I stopped to talk with one of the fire fighters called in that night, who said that the reason there were no fire sprinklers in the casino was because you applied for an exemption when the hotel was built! It's not only that the fire should have been contained, it should never have happened in the first place!"

She refused to back down or look away. Markorian adjusted his tie, focusing his attention on Pandora. "It doesn't matter," he said levelly, "You're still a ruined man, Pandora. You'll never work at my hotel again, or any hotel in Las Vegas." He left as quickly as he came in, ignoring the doctors' stern warnings as they ushered him away from the room.

"Pandora? …Pandora?"

He swiped a fist through the air, punching the bed, screaming as he did—whether from anger or the pain of moving his arm—and he didn't let up until a nurse discreetly closed the door.

"My reputation is ruined, my face, ruined…there isn't any hope left in the world…" He clenched his fist, the bandages creasing around his knuckles.

"You still have me," Catherine said. When he wasn't looking, she had slid the newspaper off of the table and into the trash.

"…B-but I don't want you." _You don't want me_, his mind raged at him. _You shouldn't want me—a ruined, broken man, fit for nothing._ "I don't want to see you," he whispered, the bandages around his eyes becoming wet again.

"You don't mean that. Pandora, I love you—"

"You're lying," he said savagely, his lips twisted into a cruel expression. She must be lying; to him, there was nothing there worthy of love.

"I'm not!"

"Then you're a fool." He turned away from her, grimacing at the pain branching out across his chest. It hurt just to breathe. "And I'm done with fools….I…I don't want to see you ever again."

For a moment she stared at him, her eyes brimming with tears. "You don't deserve this pain," she said, her voice wavering, "and you're not to blame. But you've created your reality, your world, out of these…these illusions, and you're going to have to live with it."

Catherine turned around and left, her last view was of him—hunched over, facing the wall, shaking either with rage or with pain—before the door closed shut behind her.

It wasn't until after she had left that he noticed he was crying. He wanted nothing more than for this to all be some elaborate illusion—but he had been living that for so long. Pandora, the master magician! It was an illusion, something fake. A sham created by a child fished out of the Seine by a conman. He had nothing else to build with, so he had used bricks of air to build his house, and Catherine was right—it was his life now.

He could still taste the smoke on his tongue, but in his ears now there was the sound of applause, of the crowd cheering for a magic trick well-completed. The creak of floorboards were under his feet as the illusionist, perfect and whole, approached his next trick.

The nurses found him asleep, the bandages wet with tears and torn away from the fourth finger on his left hand.

**.**

**.**

The applause came in waves, louder and louder, and from the edge of the stage, looking out into the theatre, yawning and dark, he thought he saw _her_. That was impossible, it had to be, and as he tried to find something to say—anything, from curses to apologies—he found that his lips just wouldn't form the words. Stumbling forward, he thought he would reach out to her but the roar in his ears was just too much, and their hands might have passed through each other, overlapping for only a moment, but he was falling and then—

he was awake, the applause nothing but the drone behind blinking, unchanging digital numbers.

Pandora had no more visitors over the course of his stay in the hospital, and when he finally left, he felt it was almost as a ghost. No one noticed him, or if they did, they pointedly looked away from the man in the white bandages. Every living day was a nightmare and so he retreated into his dreams. It was torture to remember, but so blissful to forget, even if he knew it was only an illusion. But he was a master illusionist, and over time that line between illusions and reality continued to warp even further.

It was right about then that he met a man. His face was hidden, much like Pandora's, but with a hooded, purple cloak. "My name is Marik. I know of what you seek, and I know of what you dream," he said, and there was something about his voice that enchanted Pandora. It was mesmerizing, pulling him in. He was the first man to talk to him in days.

"You don't know anything," he said bitterly.

"I know about Catherine, and how you yearn for her—"

Hearing her name had precisely the effect Marik wanted. "I can help you, I can reunite you with your Catherine," he continued. "But only if you do something for me in return."

The Catherine of his dreams, with him again! "For her," Pandora whispered fiercely, "I'd do anything. Just tell me what you want me to do."

Behind the hood of his cloak Marik couldn't help but smile at how easy this one was. It was never that difficult to re-mold a man who was already broken. "Soon you will come with me to Japan—there is a tournament there that I would like you to enter. Win one particular match and your Catherine will be back in your arms."

Marik turned to go, and Pandora caught the slightest flash of gold amidst the purple robe. "Prepare yourself for our departure. When the time is right, I will signal you." Then he was gone and Pandora was once again alone. The breeze picked up, and Pandora could feel it on his skin. It felt refreshing in a way that he thought he had forgotten.

**.**

He was done with performing mere tricks—there was a grander illusion waiting for him. It went off perfectly every time, although it seemed to pass so quickly; soon he was there, walking to the spotlight at the front of the stage. He squinted upwards at the smooth round light and thought that if only he could reach it, he could bring it down from the sky and into his hands. He was so high up already that he could feel the wind caressing his face and playing at his hair. The moon was so bright and full of life and promise, and he knew he could clasp his hands around it if only he stretched a bit further. His hand trembled, his balance wavering, but he reached out, _he did it_, and then—

He was awake.

Pandora smoothed his fingers over the last of the buttons, satisfied with the overall result. The suit looked good on him; they always did, although he had never worn something quite like this before. The hat went next, and last—the mask, fitted in place to conceal the worst of the scarring. The rest was hidden by the clothing, and as he smoothed back his hair Pandora couldn't help but feel reborn. Bravely, he raised his eyes to the mirror.

The black-and-red material of the suit jacket was cut in a modern style—it was a garment made to be seen, and Pandora wanted to be seen in it. The old white suits were forgotten in favor of darkness; he didn't know how much he would like it until then. "Soon," he whispered, the hazy, dreamlike image of Catherine still in his mind. "It's only a matter of time before I see you again."

He closed the curtains draping around the window, shielding him from the light of the moon and the stars. Then, into the darkness, Pandora vanished.

**.**

**The End.**

**.**

**. . .**

**Author's Notes:**

1. _Smoke and Mirrors_ was originally an entry for the livejournal community ygodrabble round #050 back in 2011 and was expanded into this finished story.

2. I chose Las Vegas and specifically the MGM Grand because it is the perfect stage for a professed Master Magician like Pandora. At the time, it was one of the largest hotels in the world. The character of Mark Markorian is inspired in name only by the real-life Kirk Kirkorian, the owner of the MGM Grand at that time. The burlesque show _Jubilee!_ started in 1981 and continues to this day.

3. The MGM Grand was the site of a real-life fire in November 1980, one of the deadliest hotel fires in recent history. Various factors such as a lack of sprinklers in the casino (24-hour occupancy areas were exempt from current laws regarding fire safety equipment) and faulty wiring resulted in a fire that started in the hotel's restaurant. An additional fire broke out 90 days later at the Hilton hotel, prompting a reformation of fire safety codes. The timeline to this event and the fire in YGO Canon don't line up perfectly (Pandora's timeline is pretty vague), but for the purposes of this story I've merged the two events. Five years later the hotel was sold and renamed Bally's Las Vegas. I visited that hotel in 2005, although I was not staying there as a guest.

4. The anime omits Pandora's mother's death so I merely alluded to it. I also read somewhere that he was from France, so I gave him a suitably anime backstory.

5. _Thank you_ for reading and _please_ review, I value and treasure each one.

******. . .**


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